Coming Together to Fall Apart
by thewidowsweb
Summary: In the midst of a zombie apocalypse, every move can damn you. Friends and enemies become one and the same while traps are disguised as dream opportunities. It's hard to keep going, but it's vital that you do. The important thing is that you hold onto your humanity and you find people to keep you sane. It's all too easy to lose yourself after you've already lost everything else.
1. Chapter 1

It was hard to run after three days without sleep, then again you don't have to run unless you fall behind because you need rest. It was an endless circle and some days you had to wonder was it all worth it.

The sun was just peeking out from behind the apartment block and Bruce was grateful not to have to run in the dark. Unseen pieces rubble or even bodies could make all the difference between making it or not, every second counts and without a gun he was reliant on his aching legs and burning lungs. He couldn't look up and instead kept his eyes glued to the ground, calculating each step, grass was a killer for running but luckily it hadn't been raining which meant that puddles and mud weren't a problem.

He could hear the beep of a horn and his head whipped up, he spotted a car tearing through the path between the buildings as it turned towards him it scraped against the wall causing a horrible grinding noise. The boy inside had dark hair stubble he wore sunglasses which hardly seemed necessary in the dim light but Bruce barely noticed this as he chanced a glance backwards and almost stumbled on the uneven grass. He was ten meters in front of his pursuers, they must be in their first wave judging by the speed they were going at. Decomposition was slowed down by the virus but after two weeks brain function began to slow and so did the person. Not person, zombie, Bruce had to constantly remind himself of this. The whole situation, the way the virus developed and attacked, the way the pack could hone in on prey would have all been fascinating if he weren't the prey.

The car drove onto the grass before the driver pulled the handbrake and it swung around, for a moment Bruce thought that it would run him down but it didn't and instead the boy inside shouted to him.

"Hurry up, get in!"

In another time and another place Bruce may have hesitated before accepting a lift from a random stranger but right now he was trying not to get eaten or infected so the choice was clear. He tore the door open, jumped in and barely had time to fasten his seat belt before the boy put the car back into gear and they sped off.

"Show me your neck." The boy ordered.

"What?" Bruce was bewildered by the strange request and slightly unnerved that the boy didn't seem to think it odd, completely natural about just swooping in and saving someone's life.

"Your neck, your neck, show it to me." The boy repeated, a hint of urgency in his voice. Bruce decided that he must have his reasons and so he pulled at the collar of his shirt. The boy driving turned and looked carefully at the right side of it, not seemingly bothered by the fact that he wasn't watching the road. "You're fine."

The adrenaline was wearing off and Bruce felt light headed as the realization of what had almost happened hit him.

"Shit, shit, shit." He mumbled to himself, covering his face with his hands. He could have died, he would have died.

"Hey, don't get sick in the car." The boy said but he seemed sympathetic this time. Bruce looked up at him and was surprised to see a bottle of water being shoved in his face while the bot kept his other hand on the wheel. "I'm tony." He offered, smiling in an attempt to put the shaken boy at ease.

"Bruce." He said grabbing the bottle and finishing half of it before stopping to focus on getting his breath back, he had learned a while back that people didn't offer fresh water unless they meant it and if you said no then they wouldn't offer again.

"It's good to meet you Bruce. You should stay away from gangs like that, They are terrible influences." He joked and laughed, Bruce laughed along and it was a mix of relief and wonder at the events that had just taken place.

"Where are we going, how did you know that I needed help?"

Tony shifted in his seat, not looking over at Bruce.

"I can't say but once you've been cleared it will all be explained and you'll have a place to stay. It's really just better if you hold off on questions for now." Bruce nodded, not wanting to push the matter after what the boy, Tony, had done for him. He sat back in the seat and finished off the bottle of water since Tony hadn't asked for it back. It was only fair, he wasn't going to push his luck for answers that didn't seem to matter all that much seeing as he was still intact.

The sun showed that it was almost midday and so did the digital watch on Tony's wrist. Bruce must have fallen asleep because the next thing he knew, Tony was nudging him with his elbow.

"Sorry to do this to you buddy but you have to put on the hood." Bruce looked around but couldn't see what Tony was talking about. There were no longer burned out cars on the side of the road, no abandoned belongings or people. Tony tapped the dashboard. "It's in the glove compartment but don't worry, it's temporary and things will only get better afterwards" He assured him. "We'll be there in half an hour."

Bruce opened up the compartment and took out a thick black hood. He looked at Tony to see if he was joking but he only received a shrug. "It's protocol and it's there for a reason."

"I get it." Trust wasn't something that was simply a given anymore. "It's fine."

He slipped the hood on, it was heavy but it served its purpose, the moment it covered his head the light and sound around him ceased.

"I'll make it up to you." Tony muttered to himself. He had been circling around the entrance to the compound for the seventh time in two hours, he had radioed ahead already but he still had to wait for a while longer. Bruce didn't seem like a bad guy but none of them ever did. You couldn't trust anyone these days.


	2. Chapter 2

Tony pulled the Bag off Bruce's head. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the sudden light but it was a huge relief to have the stuffy hood taken off. They were in what looked like an airplane hangar, fluorescent lights lit up the place, through the windshield he could see five cars parked up by the wall and four motorcycles that were visible. Bruce could see that the cars were being charged and he was itching to ask how they were generating the electricity, but Tony had told him not to ask questions.

He turned when Tony put a hand on his arm. "We're here, it's going to be fine. It'll get easier if you just go along with it."

Tony's word were far too ominous to put Bruce at ease but he nodded. Tony was the first person to look out for him in years, no one had bothered since to try and comfort or help him.

The doors were opened and Bruce unbuckled his belt before being pulled out. Two men stood by while the other kept a tight grip on his arm. They were each armed. Bruce was pulled forward roughly and almost tripped over his own feet. He wasn't sure how long they had been in the car for or even it was day or night. The harsh artificial light and lack of any windows offered no clues.

"Hey, go easy on him, he's just a kid."

Bruce felt a pang of gratitude towards Tony, despite the fact that Tony couldn't be much older than Bruce, the boy had authority written all over him. He looked over his shoulder and saw Tony being approached by a man in a tall man wearing a leather coat with no hair and an eye patch.

Bruce was pulled into a room before he could see any more. The room held a bare metal table and three chairs, he was instructed to stand with his hands on the wall as he was patted down and his jacket was removed, they also took the lighter from his pocket as well as a blunt pen knife.

"You'll get these back." They assured him before leaving the room.

Bruce took a seat facing the two other empty chairs. There was a mirrored window in front of him but he avoided looking at it. He had seen enough movies to know that there was most likely people watching him from behind it, he couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. He wished that Tony was there, he would feel safer if he was.

The door opened and a man entered, he wore a suit and smiled as he took a seat in front of Bruce.

"My name is Phil Coulson. You don't need to worry, you can relax." Bruce nodded but didn't speak. "Once we have established that you aren't a Cleaner or pose a threat you can stay here, it's safe….well as safe as you can hope to get."

"Sir, can I please ask you one question."

"There's no need to call me sir, Coulson is fine," He assured him. "and I'll try to answer whatever the best I can."

Bruce had been waiting to ask this since he had been told to put on the hood. He had a ton of questions but this one had confused him the most. "Why did Tony want to look at my neck?"

"The first sign of infection is in the jugular, it discolours once the virus has entered the system, turns grey or black, it varies." Coulson explained and Bruce nodded.

"Now it's my turn, lets start with your full name and your date of birth." The man said, clicking his pen and opening up his folder.

Tony was exhausted after the constant driving in the glaring sun. He followed Fury into the break room where he would have to outline and report on what he had seen while he was out. He took his gun out of its holster and locked it in his locker before tossing Fury the car keys. He noticed that the locker beside his was empty.

"Where's Hawkeye gone?" Clint wasn't permitted to keep his bow on his person whenever he was at the compound ever since he and Tony had started making bets on how many targets they could knock off of a moving car while the other was driving.

"He's late coming back from patrol but there's been a rise in the infected not to mention the Cleaners have been increasing in their attacks." Fury sat down at his desk, he looked even more tired than Tony. "If he isn't back in the next few hours I'll send someone out."

-Earlier that day

Clint slowed his car down as he reached the end of the road. He rolled down the window to make sure but it was definitely there, the sound of breaking glass. It had been quiet for the last four hours and Clint was getting ansty. The base was purposely positioned far away from the focus of the population but he was more than two hours to the west of the base, it wasn't that he was looking for trouble but no sightings made him feel as though something was building. He pulled up and got out of the car. His car, or more correctly the car he was given, was electric and so the only sound it made was the reinforced wheels crunching over debris or the bumper scrapping away to clear the road, it made it harder to hear the sounds of anyone outside with the rumble of a normal engine.

Clint grabbed his bow from the backseat and got out of the car. He didn't bother to lock the door, instead just pocketing the keys. The noise grew louder as he approached but an overturned car blocked his view, behind the destroyed car was eight or so more in various degrees of disrepair. What confused him most was the unusually absence of guttural grunts and moans that the hordes usually made.

He loaded an arrow as he approached but faltered as he swung around to face whatever was the cause of the noise. He lowered his bow, there was no threat or at least not the one he was expecting.

An angry looking girl was circling a car, holding a crowbar in both hands, smashing the windows of a previously relatively intact green mini cooper.

Clint cleared his throat and she spun around, suddenly holding a gun and aiming it at his head, the crowbar held loosely in her left hand.

Clint was fairly accustomed to having his life threatened at this point but it wasn't usually by a girl standing alone amongst a wreck of cars, he held up a hand but she didn't waver. He looked down at the crowbar in her free hand and he couldn't help but wonder why she had been smashing up cars.

"Did they send you?" She had an unmistakable hint of fear to her voice but her face didn't betray any of it.

"Did who?" He asked confused, he wasn't yet sure if it had been a mistake to get out of the car.

"Don't act stupid." She warned.

"It's not an act." He said with a small smile. Until that moment, despite being threatened, Clint hadn't felt the need to run. It may have been the way she shifted her stance or the expression on her face that made him dive out of the way but a half a second later bullets flew over his head.

Her gun had a silencer on it but there was the unmistakable clang of bullets lodging themselves in the overturned car door. He re-loaded his arrow and waited for a break in fire. He listened to the crunch of glass beneath the girls boot and she moved to get a better aim.

"I'm not here to hurt you." He didn't want to, she seemed all too familiar, a paranoid kid, obviously on the run from someone and alone. He may have been sympathetic but self-preservation was key and if it was a choice between the life of the red headed girl and himself, the choice was clear.

He bent down, looking under the upside down bonnet of the car. He could see her leg sticking out from behind a grey car. He pulled back the bow string and took a breath before releasing it, it cut through her calf and he heard he swear but it wasn't in English.

She fell to her knees and dropped the crowbar. He skirted around the car, reloading another arrow and aiming it at her chest.

"You're not with them…" She stated, she seemed different from a moment ago, she seemed to have less of a dangerous aura coming from her and instead hopelessness seemed to be the only thing radiating from her tired body. The fight had drained out of her once she realized that he wasn't a threat, or at least not the one she was expecting anyway.

"What convinced you?"

"They aren't the type to go for a warning shot, they wouldn't waste the ammunition…Or use arrows" She said quietly and through gritted teeth. Clint frowned, she still had the gun in her right hand but she didn't even try to raise it. He took a moment to realize why, she hadn't been firing at him before out of defence, she just wanted to kill whoever she thought was coming after her. She looked up at his arrow but this time her face was calm, she wasn't trying to gain his sympathy.

"Are you going to kill me?" Her voice was strained with the effort not to cry out from the wound in her leg.

He shook his head and replaced the arrow in the quiver and hooked the bow over his shoulder before offering her his hand.

"I don't kill people." The girl's expression turned dark for a moment before it disappeared, he was surprised by the change and wondered if he had imagined it. She took his hand but once she was on her feet she tried to take a step away from him. The moment that she put weight on her bad leg the pain almost caused her to fall again, she would have if Clint hadn't wrapped an arm around her waist.

"Don't!" She snapped at him, Clint looked at her apologetically but he only loosened his grip.

"If I let you go you'll fall." He moved so that she could put her arm over his shoulder, she did so reluctantly but she knew he was right and she didn't want to fall onto the shards of glass again. He nodded over towards the car.

"I can bring you back with me, you'll be safer there." Clint offered. The girl considered her options for a moment but realistically she didn't really have any.

"Fine." He smiled at her but she only glared at him.

"My name's Clint."

"I don't care."

This is going to be interesting, he thought to himself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Gammawidow67, Cleaners are explained in this chapter and no, Bruce won't become the hulk. It is a powerless au so I'm going to incorporate anger issues, blackouts etc. so as not to take away from Bruce's character.**

"Are you going to ask where we're going?"

Clint couldn't stand the silence. Usually while he was doing his rounds he would spend his time trying to remember old songs that used to play on the radio or the ones that were on the CDs that used to line his truck's floor. Unfortunately his CDs were long gone but he'd usually sing whatever part of whichever songs he remembered or he'd steal Tony's Walkman. He used to raid houses on his way back from his rounds, Lara and Niamh, two girls back at base, would trade him full access to their library of cds and tapes in return for him giving them anything resembling music he found, records, tapes it really didn't matter to them. He would still be doing that but Fury had started complaining about, "being reckless." And "Not doing the god damn job Barton and listen blah blah blah."

"I doubt you would tell me." She replied, the gash on her leg didn't look too bad anymore and the bleeding seemed to have slowed down. It probably hurt like hell but the girl didn't complain. She just stared out the window at the passing scenery. It was easier to notice more things about her now that neither of them was trying to hurt the other.

She looked exhausted. She had dark circles under her eyes and a nasty bruise that started halfway between her elbow and shoulder and continued under the sleeve of her shirt, stretched past her collarbone and faded once it reached the middle of her neck. It looked as if someone had hit her with a baseball bat.

Clint recognized the chains of two dog tags that were tucked under her shirt.

"What's your name?" He asked. The girl kept her eyes on the views flitting by and for a moment Clint thought that she may have been too lost in her own thoughts to hear him but before he had the chance to repeat the question she answered.

"Natasha"

"Is that your real name?" He asked, half expecting her to just ignore him this time.

"I think so…" Her answer just confused him but as she pulled her knees up to her chest, angling herself away from him, the message was clear, she was done talking.

Clint passed a sign that was buried under graffiti. It may have announced the speed limit or a town name at one time but now it was smothered in unintelligible words and colourful streaks, most importantly, there was a small eagle drawn in the right hand corner. It was based off an organisation that Fury, the director at the compound, had once worked for. The wings on the original symbol were broken up into seven sections, three on both sides and one on the bottom. The eagle on this sign was different, it only had a single black outline of the right wing. It meant they were one hour away from the compound.

The girl, Natasha, rolled down the window. The air in the car was getting uncomfortably stuffy but she may have just done it to have something to do.

She tapped the windows ledge, a tune to some unknown song in her head.

The breeze from the open window provided a much needed relief from the baking sun. He rolled down his own window and relaxed back in his seat. It could have been a peaceful drive. It could have been enjoyable, but then Clint glanced over at her again. He froze as he looked closely at her hand.

Dirty finger nails, crusted with grime and blood peeked out from fingerless gloves. Whether it was her blood or someone else's didn't occur to him until his eyes travelled further down. Numbers and a letter were scarred white against her skin. It had barely been noticeable before.

He slammed his foot down on the brake. Natasha braced her arms against the dashboard to stop herself from hitting her head off of it.

"What the hell was-"She stopped when she saw Clint. He sat ridged, glaring down at the steering wheel.

"Get out." He hissed.

"What, why?" She asked, startled by his sudden change in demeanour.

"I said get out!" He shouted at her. She scrambled for the door handle and stepped out. She had thought that he would drive off straight away but instead she heard the other door slam shut. He walked up to her aiming a gun at her head. It was her gun.

"You're a Cleaner, aren't you?" Any jokes or kindness was gone and replaced with pure fury. She paled as he shoved the gun against her forehead. She had started to believe that she actually had a chance, that she would be safe. He used his free hand to grab her wrist, pulling it forward, she had a hard time preventing herself from stepping onto her injured leg. This time he didn't care about her getting hurt. "You bitch." He snarled. The scars were unmistakable, Hydra branded their soldiers, nicknamed Cleaners since they made sure not to leave any loose ends.

"You're wrong." She stuttered out, her mind trying to generate an escape route, the only problem was that she didn't want to escape, she wanted more than anything to not have to run, to have somewhere stable and safe.

"Am I?"

"I left."

"No one leaves."

"I did, just let me explain." Clint looked down at her wrist, still grasped in his hand. The first few digits had been scraped away. It looked as though a knife was responsible.

"Fine." He let her wrist go and she rubbed it, trying to get the feeling back in it. Natasha leaned back against the car door. Clint looked at his watch. "You have three minutes, then I'm going to shoot you."

"I thought that you said you didn't kill people." She challenged him.

"Cleaner scum doesn't count." He said staring her dead in the eye, she refused to look away.

"It wasn't my choice." He scoffed at that but she continued, painfully aware of the gun pointed at her face and the seconds ticking by. "I barely knew what I was doing half the time. I'd get a mission, I'd be given my orders and then I'd drugged in preparation… I've tried to remember what happened after that but I've never been able to."

"Do you really expect me to believe that?"

"It's the truth, they'd drug us and by the time we'd become lucid again it would be over."

"What do you mean we?" He asked, seeming a bit more open to her story.

"There were a few us, nineteen at first but no more than five when I left. Everyone else in the organisation had a choice." She rubbed her head and slid down the door into a sitting position. She knew how it sounded. "I just wanted to leave. Usually if we had doubts they'd notice, put us through re-education." She clenched her hands into fists, "They wanted to make sure that their little toy soldiers were up to scratch." She looked at the last few digits on her wrist, 79x.

"They patch us up, reprogrammed us and then we're sent off." She looked up at him but his face was blank. The gun was still pointed at her. It was odd that she hadn't noticed it previously but he hadn't chosen to use his bow. He didn't want to use it to kill someone. It was understandable that he would want to keep something free from damage. Only an expert could shoot like he could, archery must have been something from before the virus. It was his outlet, his anchor, she had always had…. She shook her head, what was she thinking?

"Are you going to kill me now?"

He stayed silent and she wondered would she have enough time to process what had happened if he shot her. Probably not.

"How long have you been running? When did you decide that you had had enough?"

"A few weeks, maybe a month. I don't know how many times I've wanted or tried to leave but I know this wasn't the first time." Clint nodded.

He lowered the gun and went around to the back of the car. Natasha heard him open the trunk. He returned with a pair of handcuffs.

"Get up." He ordered, offering no help. The pain in her leg had lessened but she could still barely do more than lean lightly on it.

He yanked her arms in front of her once she stood up. He fastened the handcuffs, tighter than necessary but Natasha didn't care, she was just glad to not have a bullet between her eyes.

"Get in." He left her to get back into the car herself while he returned to the driver's seat.

As they drove off she closed her eyes and rested her head against the window.

"I'm sorry." Natasha wasn't completely sure why she said it but it felt like the right thing to say.

"I don't care." He said as he drove towards the compound in the fading light. She still wasn't telling him everything, they both knew that but it was enough.

Being interrogated wasn't supposed to be a calming experience, Bruce knew that but he couldn't help it. With every question he answered it felt like another burden was being lifted off his shoulders. It may have been that he finally didn't have to run anymore, or it might have been Coulson. It was hard not to trust him. Bruce was finally free from the responsibility of his own future, it was a freedom he had been praying for.

"Were you travelling with anyone?" Coulson asked.

"I was with a group." Bruce answered after a pause, his hesitation didn't go unnoticed by Coulson.

"Would you mind telling me what happened?"

"The leader, Tomas, wanted to go north, said something about a nature reserve. No one was too keen about it. There was a boy with us who started getting everyone riled up, talked about how we were following him to the grave. Tomas ended up dead. Shot through the heart."

"I assume the boy was responsible, did the he take control of the group?" Coulson asked, Bruce had noticed that he had stopped taking notes, he shook his head.

"He tried to hurt one of the kids, Tomas' son. He was only ten and this guy was pointing a gun at his head. I got mad. I don't remember fully what happened but what I do remember is that he ended up dead. I killed him." Bruce's hands were shaking, he seemed to be lost in his own memories. "His name was Dylan."

"The ten year old?"

"No, the boy I killed."

Coulson closed over his folder and crossed his hands over it. "Do you regret doing it?"

Bruce shook his head, looking up at Coulson. "He would have killed that kid, he'd gone crazy and no one else was going to stop him. A few of us broke off after that but it has only been me for the last few days. I don't blame them for leaving." Coulson stood up and offered him his hand.

"Their loss is our gain."

"Are you sure?" Bruce asked carefully, shaking his hand.

"You look out for others and you have heart. Hold onto that."

"Thank you sir, I mean Coulson." He said, quickly correcting himself. Coulson smiled at him.

"Someone will be along in a few minutes, it will most likely be Tony since he vouched for you, and you're his responsibility now."

There was a tradition where whoever brought in a new resident would have to show them the ropes and take any blame for whatever harm they caused, it wasn't written anywhere but it was accepted as much as any other rule on the compound. Tony must trust Bruce to put his own neck on the line. "He'll bring you to temporary isolation, tomorrow you will be assigned a space to stay and a job." Bruce nodded. He wondered what kind of job he would get, he was happy to learn that Tony would be dropping by again, he was dying to ask him about how the whole compound ran, the cars, the electricity, and really the whole situation was baffling.

Coulson left to join Fury in the observation room.

"Are you sure of what you're doing?" He asked once the door had closed.

"Do you not trust me?"

"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies." Fury replied with a small smile, he had learned that Coulson had a way of reading people, he knew he could trust his judgement. At that moment a radio on Fury's hip crackled into life. Fury had been waiting for the call.

"Clint's back, Sir and he brought someone in." The muffled voice came in, Fury was relieved to not have to organize a search party, Clint was a good kid.

"Where is everyone finding these people?" Fury mumbled before answering. "Send him in."

There was a crackle of static before Maria answered again. "It's a bit more complicated than that… he brought in a cleaner." Fury looked like he was going to break something, most likely Clint. Fuck.

**Reviews are appreciated, I'd love some feedback on where you guys would like to see this story go.**


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